


Lockdown Duet

by RogueTiger



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, Author has no musical talent, F/F, Minor Xavier Dolls/Wynonna Earp, No Curse, Waverly and Nicole play guitar, Waverly has no chill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueTiger/pseuds/RogueTiger
Summary: There were no two ways about it, Waverly decided, she was cursed.After a lifetime of being too afraid to step foot beyond the boundary of the Ghost River Triangle where her home town of Purgatory lay, she had been finally convinced by her Aunt Gus to, as her Aunt had put it in her typically gruff manner, ‘unstick her wings and fly’, only to be grounded by a suspected virus outbreak in the first stop of her backpacking holiday?
Relationships: Waverly Earp & Wynonna Earp, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 20
Kudos: 159





	Lockdown Duet

**Author's Note:**

> Note - While Waverly and Nicole can speak Italian, I can't so if anything being spoken is in italics, it is Italian.
> 
> AN - This story came about largely because of video early on in the lockdown in Italy of them making the most of a bad situation and singing and playing music.
> 
> Now with added rating because I shamelessly used EFA_Podcast to work it out for me ;)
> 
> Also, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGDfcJ7jsPY this is one of the videos I watched on youtube while I was trying to work the story out (I'm really fond of violin music and considered having Nicole play that or having her play sax because Kat can). This one became the inspiration for Nicole and Waverly playing for the twins.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

With a heartfelt sigh, Waverly Earp flopped backwards onto the slightly too hard mattress and released another sighed groan, this time towards the white painted ceiling of her hotel room.

There were no two ways about it, Waverly decided, she was cursed.

She knew she was.

How could she be anything else when, after a lifetime of being too afraid to step foot beyond the boundary of the Ghost River Triangle where her home town of Purgatory lay, she had been finally convinced by her Aunt Gus to, as her Aunt had put it in her typically gruff manner, ‘unstick her wings and fly’, only to be grounded by a suspected virus outbreak in the first stop of her backpacking holiday?

Waverly supposed that there were worse places in the world to be stuck in such a situation than Italy. Purgatory for one. And, she knew it was for a good reason. But… she sighed again… it was still frustrating to be so close to freedom. To be in a place, a country, she had dreamed about visiting, a place she had devoted endless research and devoured book after book on, only to end up stuck in a small hotel room.

Groaning, Waverly rolled over and allowed herself what she knew was a self-indulgent, and thoroughly petulant scream of frustration into the pillows she buried her face in. Then, with that out of the way, she centred herself with a deep, cleansing breath, and rolled to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Right, that’s enough of that, Waverly Earp,” she stated firmly, slapping her hands against her thighs with more determination than she was feeling. “You might be stuck in this room but there are worse places to be. Like… fighting off Champ’s drunk advances again while he tries to wheedle free drinks for him and his boys,” she winced at the thought. “Yep, definitely worse places. Time to woman up!”

With her pep and optimism returning to its usual ‘disgustingly optimistic levels’, as her sister Wynonna put it, Waverly pushed herself to her feet and, with a couple of strides that took her over the thick rug covering dark-stained floorboards that had seen countless years and feet treading a similar path, she threw open the double doors to the small balcony and drew in a deep breath.

Fragrant air rich with the scent of spices and flowers foreign to the cold Alberta climate she was used to, flooded into the room, pushing aside the smell of laundry detergent and cleaning products. Waverly closed her eyes and breathed it all in. The smells and sounds pulled a smile across her face.

Waverly was sure that the lockdown had muted the street noises and bustle that would have usually served as a background to that part of the town but the lack of cars upon the narrow roads allowed the birds to sing and voices to be heard. And there, on a stray breeze, with no exhausts to mute it, she could smell and taste the tang of saltwater from the azure blue of the sea she was convinced she could just see between the buildings when she leaned over the metal rail just right.

Racing back into the room with a bounce in her step, Waverly snatched up the travel book she had been reading almost nonstop since she had brought it and her faithful reusable water bottle. Her hand hovered over the neck of her guitar for a moment. Her fingertips brushed against the fabric of its cover before pulling back, a tremor of nervous uncertainty releasing a wave of butterflies in her stomach.

She had brought the guitar with her to… Actually, Waverly wasn’t sure why she had brought her guitar with her. No matter what Wynonna, Gus or Curtis said about her ‘skills’, she was too scared to play it where anyone might hear her.

Wrapping a hand around the guitar, she moved it out of the way, propping it safely between the bed and the mahogany armoire before returning to the balcony and taking a seat at the small table there and opening up her book.

The words and pictures that had once held her attention couldn’t compare to the reality around her and it wasn’t long before the book had sagged down in her loosening grip to lie forgotten upon the glass-topped table as her body relaxed into the peace and gentle heat of the day.

Through eyes drifting shut, Waverly watched the row of buildings across the narrow street, brightly painted twins of the hotel. Lacy curtains and blinds fluttered in the warm breeze, revealing hazy glimpses into the homes and lives of the people within.

From within one, a baby cried softly, its sobs growing higher and louder as its young mother carried the red-faced mite out onto the balcony and continued to rock it gently within her arms.

_“Are you there?”_

For a moment, Waverly thought that the lilting Italian was directed her way, but she realised that the mother’s attention was directed to a floor above her own just as she heard the click of doors opening.

_“Please. I cannot get her to sleep. Will you play for her again?”_

Waverly looked up, desperately wishing she could see through the solid balcony floor above her head to see who had put such a hopeful expression on the young woman’s face.

There was not a word spoken, the reply coming from a delicate, precise strumming of chords that felt like they plucked through Waverly’s body and dried the babies tears in an instant.

She slouched down in her seat, reluctant to draw attention to herself even as she was unwilling to step back into the room to give them the privacy such a personal serenade felt like it warranted.

Waverly’s eyes fluttered shut, blocking out everything but the music as her almost fevered imagination as she tried to put a face to the unknown musician but her mind fought her and rejected the idea of any kind of ‘manly’ form she could imagine. But, she thought that that was maybe due to her recent, but long overdue, break from the boyfriend she had had all through high school.

Blocking his lying, cheating hiney from her mind, Waverly fell deeper into the music and let it wash everything away as one song flowed into another and then another. The beauty of it brought tears of joy and longing to her eyes and made her fingers itch to feel the taut strings of her own guitar beneath them.

Wrapped in a blanket woven from music and the quiet of the streets, Waverly drifted along without care of anything other than that magical music until her body jolted upright, sending her knee cracking into the underside of the table.

Blinking, she rubbed at her eyes and looked around in confusion as she tried to work out just where she was.

It was darker. The waning sun painted the sky with streaks of reds, oranges and purples as it sank slowly behind the buildings.

The music had stopped at some point while she had slept but Waverly could still feel the strum of it running through her body. And, as she shifted in her seat, it brought a blush to her cheeks to realise that her guitar fuelled dreams had left her wet and wanting.

Waverly blushed again, hiding her hot face in her hands as her dreams came back to her in snippets of agile hands wringing musical notes written in moans and screams strummed and plucked from her body.

Her nipples tightened and ached at the thought of dream fingers teasing them and her hips twitched, thrusting her half out of her seat as heat bloomed at the thought of those same fingers dipping between her thighs. And there, in the background of her mind, she could still hear her sister when she had been in line waiting to be checked in, telling her she needed to get laid as she’d tried to slip her a pack of ribbed condoms under the watchful eye of security.

Unlike Champ, Waverly had never been a slave to the desires of her body to the point that Champ had accused her more than once of being frigid, but it was difficult to deny that right then her body was eager in a way she was hard-pressed to remember it being before. And all because of a nameless, faceless, musician that had willingly soothed a crying baby.

Which was undeniably hot.

Scooping up her book, water bottle, and the tattered remains of her dignity, Waverly made her way back into her room, her body aching with every step.

She called down for some food and busied herself putting the merger items she had stuffed carefully into her bag for her holiday away. It wasn’t as though they would take long to pack again and staring at a full bag for however long she was stuck there just seemed too depressing.

Her guitar she left out though. Going so far as to take it out of the soft, fabric case that protected it from scratches. She huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes as a present no doubt from Wynonna, fell out and landed on the floor.

Eying the strip of flavoured condoms, she picked it up gingerly to dangle from between two fingers. A shudder ran down her spine, a grimace twisting her lips as she glanced at the lurid colours within. She wasn’t a prude by any stretch of the imagination no matter what Champ claimed but there was something so _ugh_ and off-putting about them that struck her on a visceral level. A reaction that led to her tossed them into the back of an empty bottom drawer out of sight to deal with later so she wouldn’t have to look at them a moment later.

Her good mood was almost ruined but a knock on the door signalled the arrival of food and her stomach gave a violent growl of appreciation at the thought of sustenance. Unwilling to wait any longer she took the tray and sat in the middle of the bed. It was a simple fare but she tucked in hungrily and didn’t stop until the plate was almost spotlessly wiped clean of every trace of pasta and sauce.

Flopping back on the bed, Waverly rubbed at the distended bump of her pasta baby as she looked up at the ceiling. A smile twitched at the corners of her lips, peace and contentment settling over her as she thought once more of the musician above her.

Were they in the room right above her? Maybe even lying on their bed as she was doing?

She tried to picture the man behind the music again. Where were they from? The mother had spoken Italian but that didn’t mean anything really as Waverly knew enough to understand them. Were they short? Tall? Were they muscular or slender? What colour were their eyes, hair or even their skin?

There were so many possibilities and Waverly’s mind rejected everything masculine she put before it and focussed upon the beauty of their music and their kindness in sharing it to soothe the baby for its mother.

The bravery in doing so that she could never grasp herself.

Turning her head, she looked at her guitar propped teasingly, mockingly, within easy reach. Sitting up, Waverly picked it up and placed her guitar into the cradle created by her crossed legs.

Her heart pounded almost painfully against her ribs with the urge to play as her fingers caressed the strings, silently mimicking the music she could still feel flowing through her plucked by the fingers of a stranger.

She wanted to play.

She ached to play.

However, in the end, Waverly’s nerve failed her once again and her guitar was returned to its position leaning against the wall without a note being played.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

One day. That was all it had taken for Waverly to crave her lockdown guitarist. In truth, it had taken just one song from them but Waverly had a little bit of pride even if her fevered imagination and dreams said otherwise.

Looking up from the book whose words had become a meaningless jumbled blur upon the page, she glanced at her watch. Her right leg jittered up and down in anticipation that was founded on nothing more than hope… and a night filled with even more dreams. For a woman like herself that thrived on planning, it went against everything within her and yet, still she hoped.

It wasn’t like she wanted the baby to cry in distress again or at all but, she couldn’t help the surge of disappointment that came with the silence from across the street as time ticked slowly by without one musical note or chord coming from the room above.

Waverly was so busy calling herself all kinds of a fool that it took her a moment to realise that her thoughts were being washed aside by music again. But then the strum of chords made it through the chatter of her mind and peace settled over her thoughts.

The music was familiar, tugging at Waverly’s memory even as the name of the piece escaped her. It soon became clear that it meant something to the people trapped in their homes and apartments though. As though pulled along by invisible strings, balcony doors and windows opened and humanity spilt forth into the light and magic of the music woven by the guitarist.

Faces of all ages beamed with smiles and bodies swayed. Somewhere along the way, instruments were brought to light and even pots and pans that banged out a percussion that was rough as hell and yet still managed to blend in beautifully with the guitar and the voice rising enthusiastically in song at either end of the narrow street.

It was all chaotic and shouldn’t have worked and yet it was all perfect to see and hear people that were trapped coming together so joyously in that moment that came to an enthusiastic conclusion with cheers and shared applause… and, Waverly noticed, more than a couple of coy looks were exchanged between balconies across the street.

And no, she in no way felt even the hint of jealousy when she saw a beautiful woman making seductive eyes towards the balcony above her own. Just as she did not make any kind of a comment about it to Wynonna when she phoned later that day and had to endure a round of long-distance teasing for being a ‘jealous horndog’.

“Wynonna, getting laid isn’t the answer to everything!” Waverly huffed at her sister’s irrepressible grin beaming at her through the screen.

“Hey, its worked well for me over the years!”

“I not exactly a stranger to… all that,” she hissed, her cheeks growing red under the weight of Wynonna’s teasing.

“With one braindead tattooed duffus who didn’t treat you like the mini amazon goddess that you are, Waves. That doesn’t count for much. Just… you’re out there, Waves. Big, wide world with a deeper dating pool? Enjoy yourself and live a little for god's sake!”

“I’m stuck in quarantine, Wynonna!”

“So? That’ll give you time to practice flipping your hair, hitching up your boobs and walking with a thong stuck up your ass. Trust me, those things are _tricky_ ,” she winced. “Get the Earp special down and all those bronzed hunks will be dropping like flies at your feet ready to worship you!”

“And if I don’t want bronzed _hunks_ at my feet?” Waverly chewed her lip uncertainly as soon as the whispered words left her mouth unbidden but thankfully, Wynonna simply frowned for a second and said she couldn’t hear her before Waverly was forced to repeat herself and unpack what she had kept hidden within herself.

For its size, Purgatory was more liberal than a lot of places but, she had seen for herself what had happened to her friend Robin, how isolated he had become after he had come out as gay. She had heard the whispers and harsh words of people that had been his friend until that moment. And, while she hadn’t engaged in any of it, she was ashamed now to admit that she had allowed peer pressure and internalised homophobia to get to her and affect her own actions.

After she was done not being teased by her sister, Waverly found her guitar in her lap once more. It felt right. The shape and feel of the curved wood of the neck in the palm of her left hand. The way it fit just right against her body. Even the strings fit just so against the callouses worn into her fingers.

It was right.

Closing her eyes, she imagined the guitarist sitting before her, their positions mirrored on the bed. She still couldn’t picture their face or the colour of their eyes but, she knew there was a gentle smile on their lips and a twinkle in their eyes as their fingers moved along strings, encouraging Waverly to follow their lead as they leaned closer and closer, bringing their lips to within touching distance.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

The third day was much like the ones before with time spent reading and waiting for the music to come to her.

By the fourth day reading the same passage in the travel guide had grown a little old with the real thing so tantalisingly out of reach and Waverly pulled up a series of online bookstores and went shopping. It was her preferred method of reading as it saved on space and was better for the trees but, she had allowed Wynonna to plant a seed in her mind that had sprouted and taken on a life of its own to the point that the fear of being lost in a jungle or up a mountain with no wifi and her battery running out, blocking her access to maps and her usual source of help had led to a very real, mild panic attack.

Huffing at the memory, Walverly’s fingers flew across the screen sending the listed books flying by at a blur as she bypassed her usual research books and looked for something ‘light’ to distract her.

Cover after cover flew by, the similar poses of the couples on them barely registering beyond a mild twisting feeling of something like disgust that travelled through Waverly at the men bending woman back in a painful arch. At one time it might have seemed romantic to her younger self but the reality of a domineering boyfriend that put himself above everything had killed that belief that was in any way normal or right.

A different cover caught Waverly’s eye and had her finger lifting, pausing the scroll before she moved the screen back down.

The image on the cover was tame in comparison to all the others but it was clear from it that the story within was a romantic story about two women.

“Oh. Oh!”

Covering the screen with her hand and looked furtively around as though fearing a team of homophobic S.W.A.T. abseiling through her window to arrest her. Tentatively, Waverly lifted her hand, peeking around the edge of her fingers to look at it once more. There was still nothing wrong or explicit about it but it made her shift in her seat as a nervous energy built in her body in a liquid heat that erupted in a quick stab at the screen with a trembling finger that saw the book brought and added to her phone.

“Oh!”

The phone shook in Waverly’s hand but in no way stopped her from opening up the book on her phone or from making her way out onto the balcony with her nose nearly pressed against the screen while her waterbottle dangled precariously from her other hand as it dragged her in from the first sentence.

The book, and several others she downloaded. were Waverly’s constant companions all through the morning. The enticing romance and her own questioning self-realisations drew her back in time and again no matter what she was doing. In the end, it was her favourite guitar playing lead in many a heated dream that pulled her away from the story.

Waverly’s phone lowered to her lap, her book forgotten, as her head rose, her eyes tracking their path across the room above by the faint sound of steps and the gentle plucking of guitar strings as the instrument was tuned and worked through scales with a precision that Waverly couldn’t help but envy.

Like a hound on a scent or, a bitch in heat as she was sure Wynonna would put it, Waverly followed them to the balcony. Above her, she heard the scrape of a chair being moved into position and sat as she heard the creak of the chair taking weight.

There was no audience waiting and the guitarist seemed content to just play and hum softly to themselves.

Waverly ached to put a voice to the music of the faceless player and find out if it was as seductive but she was more than content to sit back and listen to the light, airy tune they wrung from their guitar.

“You play so beautifully.”

Waverly slapped a hand over her mouth as the guitar above let out an out of tune twang as her unbidden comment slipped out.

“Why, thank you.”

Waverly’s jaw almost came unhinged in shock at the soft, lilting, and very, _very_ feminine voice drifted down from above and teased her ears. She waited, her breath caught in her throat for her interest in the guitarist to leave like Road Runner escaping Wile E. Coyote but, if anything, her interest burned even brighter now she had a voice to fan the flames higher.

And what a voice it was.

“You play beautifully too. I heard you the other day,” she spoke into the silence. “Okay, that sounded bad. I just meant that I could hear you through the floor. Damn it, that sounded even worse, didn’t it? I swear I’m not hotel room stalking you or anything!”

Waverly’s hand couldn’t contain her giggles as what she had assumed was a suave, self-assured guitarist tripped needlessly over their own words as though afraid to offend. “It’s okay,” she giggled, “I’ve been down here listening to you even more. Your playing is getting me through the long lockdown days.”

And she had got her unknowingly through the nights but Waverly wasn’t going to mention that!

“I’m glad I could be of help.”

Her soft chuckle teased at Waverly's ears as musical as her playing.

“I’m Nicole by the way. Nicole Haught.”

“Haught… of course,” Waverly whispered softly to herself, a smile breaking over her lips before replying at a volume Nicole could hear. “Waverly Earp.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Waverly Earp… As much as we can meet right now that is.”

Waverly could feel the now familiar heat rising through her body again as Nicole’s voice lowered to a soft drawl that worked her body as surely as her fingers did the strings of her guitar she was gently strumming once more, creating a backdrop to their conversation.

“How long have you been playing for?”

“Let's see. Since I was fifteen and decided the best way to woo a girl was the guitar and sax and not the piano like my parents wanted so that’s eleven years now.”

There was so much to unpack in that statement that Waverly too a moment to absorb everything from the hesitation in Nicole’s voice to the fact that she was obviously telling her she liked girls to…

“You can play saxophone too?!”

“Yep,” Nicole laughed. “Had to make a choice on which to lug around though and decided that the guitar was easier to replace if anything went wrong.”

“So, does it?”

“Does it what?”

“Help you get woo girls?” Waverly chewed her lip nervously as she waited for Nicole’s response.

“Would it be inappropriate to ask if it was working on you yet?”

“Probably as much as me admitting that yeah, it kind of is,” Waverly stated in a sudden burst of bravery that surprised herself and had her face burning with heat.

“I like you, Waverly Earp,” Nicole laughed.

“I kind of like you too, Nicole Haught,” Waverly smirked as Nicole’s laughed broke off with a soft gasp that seemed to be caused simply by the way she said her name.

“I wish I was as brave as you,” she finally spoke into the silence.

“Brave in what way?”

“To play how you do. Where everyone can hear.” Even though Nicole couldn’t see her, Waverly gestured with a wave of her arm, encompassing the people that had appeared on their balconies to listen to her music.

“Oh. It took a while,” Nicole admitted.

“Hard to get the girls if they don’t hear you, I guess.”

“Exactly,” Nicole chuckled for a moment before it faded away. “Truthfully, it still takes effort,” she admitted.

“Really?” Waverly asked incredulously… hopefully.

“Yep. In the end, it was my chosen profession that drew me into playing outside of my bedroom walls.”

“What profession is that?”

“I just completed my training to be a cop. Figured if I could face my fears and play in public then I can face the public in my duty as an officer. Just waiting on a position to come my way. My parents invited me to spend the time with them in Chicago so I hopped on the first flight I could find out of the country.”

“That—”

“I know, I know,” Nicole laughed wryly. “In my defence, my parents are worse than facing the public.”

“They don’t accept that you like to woo girls?”

“No,” Nicole laughed lightly. “They’re fine with that. Being a lesbian was probably the coolest thing I had done in their eyes since I got caught smoking behind the church on a Sunday. The pastor's daughter was a babe.”

Waverly felt her blush growing inexplicably stronger at the tone of Nicole’s voice. She could no more stop her blush than she could the wave of jealousy nor the wish that she had been the one on the one of the receiving end of Nicole’s attention.

“Me wanting to be a cop though… that was _not_ cool in their eye. They see it as a betrayal of their negligent hippy ways.”

With the pause in the music as Nicole said it, Waverly could well imagine the air quotes being thrown up around Nicole’s description of her parents. “I don’t know your parents but, they sound like idiots.”

Her laugh was back again, a light and airy accompaniment to her music and the shiver of anticipation and delight that tiptoed down Waverly’s spine.

“I’m kind of glad they are… now that you’re here with me. Not that I want there to be anything happening that requires a lockdown!”

“Nicole,” Waverly interrupted her adorkable floundering. “I know what you mean. I’m glad we’re here together too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Waverly laughed at the joy in Nicole’s voice and leaned back in her seat to enjoy the moment, the music, and most of all, the company.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

The rest of the day passed by in a delight of conversation that flowed so easily in a way that Waverly hadn’t experienced even with her own family. No matter what the subject there was no judgement from Nicole, just an interest in everything she had to say.

Even when Waverly realised she had been rambling for ages on the dead languages she loved to study and had paused, her mind flashing back to how Champ had used to grow bored and demeaned her interests, Nicole had encouraged her to continue.

“Nicole?”

“Mhm?”

“How did you realise you liked girls?”

Silence greeted her question, stretching out until Waverly wondered if she had somehow offended the other woman.

“I think I always knew. The advantage of having negligent hippy parents is that there was no judgement. Not on their part anyway. Kids can be brutal though. So, while I knew in my heart, I still went the route of getting a boyfriend to try and fit in. That… that did not go well for either of us ‘cause it turned out he was gay and experimenting just as much as I was,” she laughed.

“Even then I denied it until I became something of a lesbian cliché by searching for quizzes online.”

“How did that make you a cliché?” Waverly queried, confusion clear in her voice.

“Well, they do say that the first sign of being gay is doing a quiz to see if you are. And that was almost exactly what the first one I found said at the top of the page. ‘How to tell if you are gay… you are here’. I didn’t even have to do the quiz after reading that. How about you?”

“I- I’m still not sure,” Waverly admitted in a whisper that felt somehow like a betrayal after Nicole had been so open and brave.

“Waves… Listen to me.”

“Okay.”

“There is absolutely no rush or time limit on working yourself out. Don’t you _ever_ let anyone tell you differently. Okay?”

“Okay.” Smiling, Waverly wrapped her arms around herself, feeling at peace with herself. She still had a lot to figure out about herself but the thought of it didn’t seem as daunting as it had just moments before. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“For the record though… I- I think I kind of like you… that way.”

“It’s the guitar… told ya, works wonders,” Nicole teased.

“Changed my mind, I take back what I said,” Waverly grinned as Nicole’s laugh rang out joyously.

“Nuh-uh. Nope. No take-backs allowed. The blow to my ego would be too great and I can’t have that.”

“I think your ego would survive just fine, Nicole Haught,” Waverly giggled along with Nicole despite her best attempts to keep her tone as dry and barren as the salt plains on the outskirts of Purgatory in summer.

_♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫_

Waverly awoke with a feeling of excitement and anticipation. It was a sensation she had grown used too since she had been there but this day was different as she now had a face… well, a voice anyway… to put to her feelings.

A voice that had tormented and delighted her dreams more than ever.

She ached just thinking about it, her abdomen clenching with the need to fulfil everything her dreams had imagined.

Teeth sinking into her lip, she gazed up at the ceiling, wondering if Nicole was awake. Wondering if she’d thought of her… If she had dreamed about her.

Taking her musings with her, Waverly made her way into the small bathroom and turned on the shower over the tub. Twisting her hair up into a messy bun, she climbed in when the temperature felt right.

The spray bounced and prickled against heated flesh, doing little to assuage the lingering desire caused by her dreams. The feeling only got exponentially worse, or better, as the shower went on and she made the decision to forgo her cloth and used her hands to soap her body and imagined they were Nicole’s hands playing her favoured skin until she had to lock her knees together to stop herself from losing her balance as she panted out Nicole’s name over and over, crying out her release into the cooling spray.

Her body shuddering, slick fingers twitching out spasms, Waverly reached for the controls and turned off the tap. The steady drip of water falling from the showerhead tapped out a rhythm that almost matched the beat of her heart.

“Whew!”

Breathing out a chuckle, Waverly stepped out of the tub on trembling legs and staggered out of the bathroom. Somehow managing to grab her towel on the way out more by instinct than design, which she was thankful for as she flopped down on the edge of the bed to end up sprawled out on her back.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d an orgasm as strong… alone or with help but, right then, she was ready to just curl up and bask in the feelings all because of—

“Waves? Waverly? I thought I heard you calling my name. Are you okay down there?”

Eyes flying open, Waverly covered her flushed face with her hands to smother her moan of embarrassment.

“Waves?”

“I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Waverly blushed even harder at her choice of words and suddenly, Wynonna appeared in her mind in all her chortling glory, acting as a voice of reason in her head, telling her she needed to get laid. And, for once, Waverly agreed. Though the very last person Waverly would admit that to was Wynonna. Her sister was insufferable enough as it was.

_♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫_

“So, did you ever tell the dude you were rubbing one out in the shower thinking about him?”

“No! And—” Biting her lip, Waverly glanced at the screen at her sister. There must have been something in her voice that alerted Wynonna of something important as the laughter that had been going on almost nonstop since she had admitted her shower transgressions slowly faded away and her sister fixed her with all her attention.

“And what, Baby Girl? Is everything okay? Do I need to fly over and beat the snot out of this creep like I did, Champ?”

“What? No! Wait, you beat Champ up?”

“He cheated on you, Baby Girl. Of course, I handed him his pimply ass! That’s not important though, is it?” Wynonna narrowed her eyes at Waverly and fixed her with an arched brow. “Talk to me.”

“The dude is not a dude,” Waverly admitted in a voice that barely rose above a whisper. Wynonna’s expression barely changed as she absorbed what she’d said and put all the pieces together.

“Dude is a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“You… like girls?”

“Yes.”

“I— wow! Okay, I’m a little lost as to what the correct response is but… I love you, Baby Girl. Nothing could ever change that, I hope you know. I am so fucking proud of you for coming out to me. Know this though, whoever you end up with in life, even if they are a babe, I will beat the snot out of them if they so much as look at you wrong.”

“Noted,” Waverly smiled as she wiped away a tear. She had known in her heart that Wynonna would be okay with her discovering her own truth but there had still been a niggle of doubt.

“Do I have to buy you a coming out gift or anything? I could introduce you to some of the girls at Pussy Willows… no, bad idea. You would see the pole I used to slide up and down if we did that.”

“Nonna!”

“We could take a trip to the city and visit that swank new lesbian bar.”

“And how do you know about the lesbian bar scene around Purgatory?”

“I hear about things!” Wynonna deflected with an airy wave of her hand. “I would make a totally awesome-sauce wingwoman! And it would save time on shovel talks later on.”

“No shovel talks!” Waverly laughed.

“I can’t promise anything.”

“How about just promising me your silence then? I— I would like to be the one to tell Gus and Curtis.”

Wynonna’s expression went from teasing to serious in a heartbeat.

“It’s your truth to tell, Baby Girl. They won’t hear a word from me. Knowing Gus though, she’ll already have it all worked out. You know how goddamn sharp that old biddy is and, looking back on things, you did have one hell of a crush on that Beth before she got sucked down the rabbit hole of perverse insanity with her brother. What was that little shitstains name anyway?”

“Tucker,” Waverly grimaced.

“That’s it… Tucker the fu—”

“Wynonna!”

Waverly rolled her eyes as Wynnona rolled around in amusement.

“I need to get going. Got to get in some beauty sleep before our date tomorrow.”

“Date? I thought you were still in lockdown? Waverly Earp, if you've let this chick talk you into breaking quarantine for a booty call so help me—!”

“No! Jeeze, Wynonna! We’re just having a meal at the same time on our separate balconies.”

“Oh… actually, that sounds kind of sweet,” Wynonna allowed with a nod of appreciation. “Damn it, you’ve known her a couple of days and she’s already making Dolls look bad in the romantic gesture stakes.”

“Dolls this week, huh?”

“Maybe even longer than just a week. Doc got all Doc and sulked off with Rosita and then his ex-wife, Kate when she rolled into town just after you flew off.”

“Rosita and his _what_? Why does everything happen around there when I’m not there?”

“I’m sure there will still be more drama than romance in my life waiting for you when you make it home, Baby Girl. Hopefully, you will have some hot stories of your own to share to take my mind off it all when you get back,” she winked.

“Very Haught,” Waverly smirked much to Wynonna’s confusion.

_♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫_

Their date was everything that Waverly had ever wanted in a date even though she couldn’t see Nicole. Even in a time of lockdown she had managed to find a restaurant that was approved to deliver and also did vegan meals. And, along with the meal, they had delivered a bouquet of sunflowers that Waverly arranged on the table before they had eaten.

Even their neighbours seemed determined to return the help Nicole had given them with her guitar by serenading them from the moment they sat down… together even though they were apart.

“Got to admit, I’m feeling a little nervous,” Nicole admitted with a soft chuckle.

Waverly was too, as was evident by the way her fingers were flitting between playing with the stem of her wine glass and the petals of the flowers even though they were perfect. She couldn’t help but wonder what had the often suave and cocky woman nervous though. “You are?”

“Yeah. This just feels so important. I like you, Waverly. That sounds crazy as we’ve never even met and it’s only been a couple of days but… I really do and I don’t want to screw this up.”

“It’s already perfect, Nicole because I’m with you. I know what you mean about being nervous though. And also the liking you part. I felt drawn to you even when all I had to go on was your music.”

Waverly could feel the now familiar heat rising in her cheeks again as she lifted her eyes from the flowers and glanced up. There was a strange freedom in their close but long-distance relationship but she wished she could see Nicole for herself. Waverly knew in her heart though that is she could, that the expression on her face would be caring and free of judgement.

“Let me play for you?”

“I- I would love that, Waves.”

The offer left Waverly’s mouth unbidden, shocking herself with her bravery but, she didn’t regret what she’d offered one bit and she was even more sure of her decision at the joy and encouragement in Nicole’s voice.

“I’m not as good as you—” she rushed to apologise in advance as she grabbed her guitar and returned to the balcony.

“Waverly,” Nicole gently admonished. “One, I’ve heard you already. You are _very_ good. Two, just that you want me to hear you play is more than enough. I know had hard that first step is. Three, you are very good.”

“Three was the same as one.”

“It was worth repeating.”

Closing her eyes, Waverly breathed in and out. Slow and deep. Filling her mind and heart with Nicole. Her laughter and strength. Her support. The music she had filled her days with and her bravery to do so.

Her fingers moved, finding the strings and the music locked within them and releasing it with practised movements.

It felt like… coming home and taking a leap off a cliff and finding she could fly all at the same time. And she soared. Oh, she soared. Chasing and pulling the music along.

“Play with me.”

As though waiting for the offer, Nicole’s guitar came to life in her hands and their music twinned and danced together in perfect harmony, flowing from one song into another as though they had been playing as a duet all their lives.

Waverly felt breathless and startlingly alive as the last chord faded into the evening air. It was a moment she wanted to savour forever even as rapturous applause from the street beyond their balconies made her all too aware that it wasn’t just her and Nicole.

“I take it back,” Nicole called down to her softly. “You’re not good. You, Waverly Earp, are extraordinary.”

“You give me the strength to be—”

“Oh, Waverly. That kind of strength is always there. It is all yours and don’t you ever let anyone take credit for that.”

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

“Jesus, Waverly, if you don’t lock that gorgeous bitch down I’m going to steal her for myself!”

“Wynonna!”

Diving across the bed, Waverly frantically waved her arms in an attempt to silence her sister before her big mouth made itself heard in the rooms above. Her move just made Wynonna laugh even harder but thankfully jolted Waverly’s brain into realising that her phone had a handy dandy volume control she could use to keep Wynonna’s mouth at a more manageable level.

“Why do I always regret talking to you?”

“You don’t. Sharing _is_ caring, Baby Girl. You just regret forgetting that it is my solemn duty as your big sister to tease the fuck out of you about your life decisions… something I regret not sticking around to do when you were wasting your time on that rodeo clown.”

“I missed you too,” Waverly smiled softly to what was the closest thing to an apology she had ever gotten from Wynonna for leaving without a word for three years.

“Now, don’t get all sappy on me—”

“Too late! You just let your soft side show and I’m not going to let you forget about it. For the record… I love you, Wynonna.”

“I love you too, sis,” Wynonna relented with an exaggerated roll of her eyes that was tempered with a grateful smile. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my messed up life after everything that happened… after everything I’ve done but, you’re the best of us.”

“No, you’re the best of us, Wynonna.”

By silent agreement and understanding born and tempered by the shared hell of their childhood traumas, they left the conversation there knowing it was too heavy to go into over a facetime call and all most too much to go into in person. They were getting there though. Slowly mending the pain of the past one day and, on Wynonna’s part, one gesture at a time to prove that she wasn’t going to abandon her sister again.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

“Have you got any brothers or sisters?” Tilting her head, Waverly listened to the barely perceptible change to the way Nicole played as she thought. Her own guitar lay silent on her lap as she waited. She had already told Nicole about Wynonna as her wayward mouth blurting out that her sister was threatening to steal her away if she didn’t ‘lock her down’. The tragedy that surrounded the Earps, that remained a subject for another time if it was to be talked about at all.

Maybe a couple of years down the road when Nicole had no desire to escape the crazy that followed along with all things Earp?

“Just the one. A younger sister, Rachael. My parents adopted her just before I started college. Which was around the time I informed them that I wanted to go into law enforcement so you can imagine how that went in my mind to suddenly have an eleven-year-old sister sharing my bedroom without warning?”

“You thought they were replacing you?”

“With a younger, better version that would impress their hippy peers and gain them points for doing a good deed,” Nicole snorted. “If that was their intention it backfired.”

“She wants to be a cop too?”

“Lord, no,” Nicole laughed, “Rachel is too ‘cool’ for that and too much of a rebel. She hates the hippy lifestyle as they’ve shown it just as much as I do though. We bonded over that and, when they’re around being them, she makes it very clear that she thinks being a cop is a ‘noble profession’. I just know I’m going to be getting a lot of late-night calls to bail her out of whatever cause she’s hitched her wagon to while she figures herself out.”

“Cause?”

“Too many to list. The last one… I had to talk her out of breaking into a laboratory that was testing on animals for a cosmetics company.”

“Oh?” Waverly couldn’t help the wave of disappointment as well as sadness for the poor animals trapped into a life of pain in the name of beauty.

“That place needed stopping. No question about that. Seriously, what more do they need to know about mascara and lipstick to know if it’s going to cause a reaction or not? Releasing those poor animals into the wild though? That’s just plain cruel when they might need the help of a vet and probably aren’t even equipped to fend for themselves if they were in the wild.”

“So what did you do?”

“Who says I did anything?”

“Nicole Rayleigh Haught,” she took great delight in making use of the full name Nicole had finally told her in response to the gentle teasing she could hear in the silky tones of her voice. “I haven’t seen your face yet but I already know you well enough to know you wouldn’t have left it there.”

“You’re right,” Nicole laughed in acknowledgement, “I put Rachel on to an animal rescue I support that was already working to secure the release of the animals into their care. She ended up volunteering with them every summer since and even helped care for the monkeys when they were rescued from the cosmetics lab.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She is. A little wild at times with it but she’s got a good heart and I love her even when she’s riding my ass about everything.”

A description that made her want to meet Nicole’s sister even more, and also made her dread the thought of Rachel meeting Wynonna. Something like that could result in the perfect storm of chaos with how similar they sounded.

_“Please, miss!”_

_“Nicole! Waverly!”_

Leaning against the rail of her balcony waved a hand in greeting at the beaming faces of the twin boys that lived in the apartment a floor down from the baby. They waved back excitedly, their every move in perfect sync as always. She had never been blessed to meet identical twins before but they more than matched every cliché she had ever heard with how they looked and acted alike. Most days she had seen them they even dressed alike despite their parents best efforts.

Right then, the only way to tell the two eight-year-olds apart was by the toys they carried clutched to their bodies.

_“Matteo! Marco! What are you two doing today?”_

_“We just watched a movie!”_

_“Now, we are bored!”_

_“So bored!”_

_“Is that so?”_ Nicole chuckled at their simulations sighs. _“And what can we do about that for you?”_

Heads topped with dark, touselled hair leaned closer for a conspirative whisper before they turned back to deploy their very best puppy eyes on Nicole.

_“Please, will you play for us?”_

_“Please, Nicole?”_

_“Please, Waverly?”_

Waverly blinked slowly in shock to be included in their request for entertainment. “Me?” Her breath hitched a little at the thought.

“Are you up for it, Waves? If not it’s okay.”

The butterflies that had been set to churn her nerves into a hurricane settled in an instant at the soft understanding and lack of pressure from Nicole.

“What have you got in mind?”

“Know the theme to Monsters Inc.?”

Waverly laughed in delight. It was a perfect suggestion for many reasons but especially as Matteo was holding a huge Sulley plush toy while Marco had a Mike tangling from his hand.

“You start and I’ll follow.”

While her words might have been about the there and then of playing a song to entertain Matteo and Marco, Waverly’s heart was pounding to a tune that said ‘more’, ‘longer’… ‘forever’. It drowned out the rational side of her that tried to point out that, for all their earnest conversations, she wouldn’t know Nicole if she passed her in the street.

And that scared and thrilled her all at the same time.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

Waverly’s guitar and favourite notebook were in her hands almost before the fact that she was awake could be registered by her brain or body.

For months, _years_ , she had been locked in a musical standoff with herself. The words and music that had flowed easily in her youth had dried up and become stale, leaving her incapable of creating her own music to the point that she could barely even play at all. And then the nervousness had taken over and nothing had helped.

Certainly not Champ telling her to ‘turn off your brain, babe. You won’t need to play your silly little songs when we open a bar down in, um, Buenos Aires’. Even when she’d had support from anyone, it had been eroded by own uncertainty and snide comments from so-called friends and others all too willing to knock an Earp down a peg or two.

Right then though, there were no negative thoughts running through Waverly’s mind. There was no room for them with all the music trying to flow out of her at such a speed from brain, to guitar, to paper.

Before long, the long blank page of her notebook was overflowing with a scrawl of words and musical notes and she was turning it over to the next without pause as the morning sun started to lighten her room.

And it was all because of Nicole just as she knew that Nicole would be all noble and refuse to take credit and say it was all down to her.

Waverly smiled at the thought, her mind drifting back to her dreams and the woman that fuelled them as her fingers strummed over chords that were written within her. Hours had passed since she had woken but she could still feel the dream touch of Nicole’s hands and body upon her own.

Chewing on her lip, Waverly paused in her playing and glanced up at the ceiling. She wished there was a way to get in touch with Nicole but Nicole’s cell had quit on her the week before and they had both tried before to get reception to put them through to each other and been turned down with some lame excuse about it being against their policy by the owner who Nicole was convinced was more than a little bit homophobic.

A tentative knock on her door had Waverly’s brows knitting together in confusion. It was too early for breakfast, right? And she hadn’t even put in an order for any even if it wasn’t.

“Shoot,” she mumbled, putting her guitar back in its usual place by the side of the bed with a grimace. Maybe she’d been playing louder than she realised. That was more than likely it. Heck, she didn’t even know what time it was when she had started playing.

Another knock, just as tentative as the first had her scrambling off the bed.

_“Hold on!”_

Reaching the door, she leaned in, her hand hovering above the handle as she raised up on her toes to look through the spy.

She blinked and blinked again, trying to make sense of what she was seeing on the front of what looked to be a local newspaper being held up for her to see.

**QUARANTINE LIFTED**

Waverly yanked open the door, startling the woman holding the newspaper so much it slipped from her hands and fluttered to the floor and giving Waverly her first look at Nicole.

She was every bit as beautiful as her voice from the top of her head, which towered far above her own and was topped with red hair that tumbled around her shoulders and framed her kind, honey-brown eyes and perfect jawline right down to the floor beneath her feet… which was nowhere near close enough.

“I should have called down first,” Nicole rubbed at the back of her neck nervously, a blush staining her cheeks as she glanced up from beneath lowered lashes. “I just kind of got excited to see you and forgot how early it—“

Wrapping her fists in the collar of Nicole’s blue buttondown shirt, Waverly pulled her forward and surged up at the same time, stilling the apology tumbling out of Nicole’s ridiculously perfect mouth with her lips.

“Hmph!”

Nicole was stiff against her just long enough for Waverly to second guess her actions and then strong hands pulled a moan from her mouth as they travelled around her waist in a silken brush and pulled her gently but firmly into the soft curves of her body.

It was Waverly’s first kiss with a woman and it felt like her first kiss ever.

Their mouths moved together in a dance as old as time, tentative at first but growing in passion as they explored what they had been aching for and building towards since, for Waverly, the moment she had heard Nicole play.

Somewhere in the back of her consciousness, Waverly was aware of the sound of the door closing as Nicole pushed it shut with her foot but she was too busy pulling Nicole further into the room and enjoying the challenge of chasing and claiming her mouth around Nicole’s wide smile of joy.

The world suddenly shifted and tilted and with a soft cry, they tumbled over. They landed on the bed with soft, startled ‘oofs’ of breath, Waverly landing astride Nicole as the other woman had in an instinctively gallant gesture twisted as they fell to take the brunt of their landing.

With her hands planted either side of Nicole’s head, Nicole’s hands a soft anchor at her waist, they smiled at each other in realisation. Their smiles shifted and Waverly gazed with wonder into the darkening depths of Nicole’s eyes as hunger grew within them. Waverly’s hips shifted, a gasp leaving both their lips as her position moved them together. Her eyes left Nicole’s, flickering down to her kiss swollen lips and she ached with the need to taste them again, to dip into the sweet vanilla taste lingering on her lips and drown in her.

“Wait. Waverly, wait.”

Waverly bucked against Nicole’s hands, her words slow to make it through the haze of desire that had had her surging forward again. She shifted back uncertainly, shame rushing to take hold.

She had pulled her into the room!

She had kissed her!

Pushed her down on the bed!

All without asking!

She had assaulted Nicole!

“I- I’m sorry!”

Waverly tried to scramble off the bed but Nicole’s gentle touch restrained her not allowing her to flee.

“Hey.” Nicole shifted around on the bed, propping herself up on the pillows.

Waverly stilled, Nicole’s gentle whisper working with the light brush of her fingers against her jaw and her soft smile as she eased her face back towards her, to anchor her back in the moment.

“Waves. I don’t know what just went through your mind then—”

“I jumped you—” Waverly nearly wailed in remorse.

“You beat me by this much,” Nicole held up a thumb and finger barely even a hairs distance apart in front of Waverly’s face until she looked at them, “to a kiss we both obviously wanted.”

“Then why stop?”

“I just want to make sure you know how I feel before— before anything else might happen.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know what you want from this— from us—”

“I want you,” Waverly rushed to butt in, fearful of what Nicole might be about to say.

“I kind of got that,” Nicole smirked. “Hey, I want you too,” she assured her gently. “More than I have anyone else before which is why I also want more.”

Waverly’s eyes widened in wonderment as Nicole allowed her a moment for her words to sink in.

“I don’t even know if it is even possible… I graduated top of my class at the academy but it’s been two months and I still haven’t had an offer thanks largely, hopefully, to budget cuts and not my gender even though I put in that location wasn’t a problem. When a job comes in, it could be anywhere and I won’t have an option other than to take it just to get a foot in the door. Long-distance sucks ass, I know that, but, if you want it too, I want more than just a holiday romance with you, Waverly Earp.”

“You scare me.”

“I scare you?” Nicole blinked up at her.

“Yes,” Waverly smiled, “yes you do. I’ve never had anyone like you in my life… and I don’t just mean the…” she made a gesture worth of Wynonna to indicate Nicole’s sex, earning herself a tender roll of her eyes in the process. “Someone that I’ve felt such an instant connection to. Someone that wants the same as I do…”

Nicole’s smile was brighter than the midday sun glinting off the ocean and Waverly stole it shamelessly with a kiss, filling herself with the heat and taste of her.

“You taste of vanilla,” she panted into the air between their lips as they parted for breath.

Nicole drew back a little, her perfectly shaped brows pulling together in confusion. “Is that good or bad?”

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” Waverly grinned, leaning back in towards Nicole eagerly, seeking out the warmth of her breath against her lips. “Vanilla dipped donuts are my favourite.”

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

Waverly soared above everything, her body drifting in a state of bliss. Slowly, oh so slowly, her back relaxed back onto the rumpled, sweat-dampened sheets of the bed and she relaxed her white-knuckled grip on the red strands of Nicole’s hair as the woman that had shown her, once again, the heights of bliss, slowly crawled her way up from her place between her thighs.

Waverly giggled helplessly as her trembling legs slid off Nicole’s shoulders and flopped to the bed. Nicole grinned back, cocky and proud as she wiped her chin and mouth clean of her arousal and licked it from her fingers with a moan of delight that had Waverly’s entire body surging with another wave of desire.

She had learned a lot that glorious day. That it was okay to laugh at the sometimes messy and confusing parts of sex, that it didn’t have to be serious and perfect all the time. It was okay to ask questions. It was even okay to ask for more of what she liked or to guide her lover when something wasn’t working for her.

She had also learned that being with a woman, being with Nicole, was no one and done thing. There was no rolling over and falling asleep after coming. Nope, sex with Nicole was like making love to an insatiable energizer bunny that refused to stop until she tapped out.

And Waverly had found out what when roused, her libido was no quitter.

Waverly shifted, her body a delightful ache as she turned to face Nicole as she settled beside her. The cocky smile was still there, tempered by exhaustion. Lifting her hand, Waverly brushed her thumb across the apple of Nicole’s cheek, caressing the dark freckle of a mole there and the faint, silver lines of a scar. Nicole’s lips brushed the palm of her hand, the outline of her sleepy smile clear against her skin.

Smiling softly in return, Waverly shifted closer with only a slight grunt at the effort. Nicole’s skin glistened golden in the waning light of the sun filtering across the room and Waverly followed the path of it, sliding through the dew of perspiration across her shoulder and down her back. She could feel the tracks she had left in Nicole’s smooth, pale skin, raised ridges left in firm muscles at the height of passion.

“Do they hurt?”

“Nope. You can kiss them better later if ya want though.”

Waverly smiled at the sleepy drawl thickening Nicole’s voice.

“Or add some more to them.”

Waverly twitched at Nicole’s tease and moaned as her head dipped and teeth teased at the numerous light but noticeable marks bit and sucked into the curves of her breasts. Sinking her fingers into Nicole’s hair, she pressed her closer, delighting in the pressure. With anyone else, Waverly would have been less than impressed to be marked in such a possessive way like that but each one wrought by Nicole just made her crave more.

She wanted the whole world to know that they were together.

That they were girlfriends?

Soulmates?

It was such a cliché word and idea and yet it warmed her and had her pressing closer to Nicole’s body until they were slotted together like two perfectly shaped pieces of the same puzzle even with their height difference.

Burying her smile against the swell of Nicole’s breast, Waverly allowed the beat of her heart to lull her towards sleep.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

“Waves! That is amazing!”

Waverly ducked her head at the praise but continued playing and perfecting the song she had composed. Nicole’s hand was warm against her leg, her long fingers following the chords she played upon her bare calf.

“I haven’t played like this for anyone in a long time. Feels good with you. Could you…” she patted the mattress, encouraging Nicole to move and sit where she wanted before moving herself to take shameless advantage of the comfort she felt in Nicole’s presence. She leaned back into the support of Nicole’s body, her back pressed into her chest, her long legs bracketing her body. “Is this okay?”

“More than.”

A shiver radiated out from were Nicole’s lips pressed against her ear and coursed down her spine and out to the tips of her fingers, causing them to twang a stray note.

“You okay there?”

Waverly was tempted to pinch Nicole’s thigh or jab her elbow back into her side but settled for rolling her eyes and pressing back with a wiggle of her hips that ground her ass into Nicole and effectively silenced her teasing.

Drawing strength from Nicole, she started playing again, her fingers plucking over the strings with more strength and surety than ever. Nicole’s lips pressed against the side of her neck, her gentle humming vibrating against her pulse to unlock Waverly’s voice.

She sang.

Her voice growing in strength as she finally let out what she had only put down on and dared to imagine in her mind.

As the last note faded away into the silence of the room, she turned in Nicole’s arms, kissing away the salt of tears that lingered on both their lips.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

The town was bustling after the quiet of the lockdown but there was still a peace that lingered over the place and the people. An unhurried nature to everything that had something a simple as a drink of coffee at the local café’s lasting for hours.

There was a bounce in Waverly’s step and a song on her lips as she made her way through the maze of pretty streets that led from the harbour back towards the hotel with a bag of pastries in her hand.

As she neared, Waverly’s heart felt close to overflowing with anticipation. With her teeth biting softly at her lips, she looked up, her eyes searching for a glimpse of Nicole on her balcony but the sun was too bright as it glinted off the glass.

Knowing it was pointless to try and engage the sour-faced woman that owned the hotel, Waverly spared her only a nod of acknowledgement that was answered with a grunt and continued on her way.

Bypassing her room, she continued on until she was outside of Nicole’s. It had been nearly a week since lockdown had been lifted and in that time they had divided their time between their rooms, usually spending the night wherever they happened to be to make as much of their time together while they could.

Waverly never wanted it to end. Never wanted to be parted from Nicole. But Nicole’s holiday had already been stretched because of the lockdown and Waverly’s time there was just the first step on her own journey.

Pushing down the first threads of pain, Waverly fixed a smile on her face and tapped on the door.

And then knocked again.

And again.

“Nicole?”

The door finally cracked open but instead of Nicole’s gorgeously perfect face, bright smile and puppy eyes… she was met by a startled cleaner who jumped back in shock to be met with Waverly’s raised hand and belatedly removed her earbuds.

_“I- Oh! You made me jump, miss!”_

_“I’m sorry. I was expecting Nicole.”_

_“The last occupant? I do not know where they might be now but I was called in to clean the room as she booked out this morning.”_

Waverly turned and ran, leaving the cleaners voice to fade behind her as she raced down the stairs to her own room. Bursting through the door she called Nicole’s name over and over, searching every inch of the small room and the balcony in a fury born of desperation but there was nothing.

_“Are there any messages for me?”_

Waverly tapped on the worn wood of the reception desk as the woman squared her shoulders and deliberately ignored her.

_“Is there a message for me?”_

There was the faintest of sound like the tearing and crumpling of paper within her hand.

_“Is there—”_

_“A message? I heard you the first time, young lady. Yes, there is a message for you right here.”_

Waverly picked up the crumpled piece of paper that was slapped down onto the desk before her and turned to go back to her room.

_“Disgusting.”_

_“What?”_

_“I said—”_

_“No! Let me be very clear, you do_ not _want to say anything more to me right now! Maybe later we can discuss the place for homophobia in the twenty-first century as well as the power of online reviews but right now…”_

Stomping her foot in frustration, Waverly stormed away. As threats went it was probably lacking but it left the other woman gaping like a fish which Waverly decided was good enough for the time being.

Taking the letter with her out onto the balcony, Waverly sat at the table, taking the same position she had sat at as she had the first time she had heard Nicole play. She smoothed the crumpled piece of paper out on the table, her fingers tracing over the familiar slant of Nicole’s handwriting.

**Waverly,**

**It kills me that all I can do is leave you this note but, Rachel called just after you left. Something is wrong with my dad and I have to go back.**

**Please, for me, enjoy the rest of your holiday.**

Nicole’s note ended there.

No name.

Nothing but a jagged edge where the paper had been torn just as surely as her heart.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

“Waverly Earp! Look at you all tanned and shit! I think your boobs got bigger too!”

Rather than admonish her sister, Waverly fell into her arms and burrowed into the strength of her arms and the warm scent of whiskey and leather that clung to her body as soon as she stepped off the Bluntline Express next to the ‘Welcome To Purgatory’ sign.

“I’ve missed you,” she choked out past the lump of emotion clogging her throat.

“Missed you too, Baby Girl.”

With a hiss of hydraulics, the bus pulled away, leaving them in a cloud of dust that slowly settled around them, covering them and Wynonna’s truck in a thick layer of Purgatory’s finest dirt.

“Come on,” easing back with the tight circle of Waverly’s arms, Wynonna planted a kiss on the crown of her sister’s head, “let’s get you home.”

“Got any gossip to distract me with?” Waverly begged, determined to put off any questions Wynonna might have brewing about Nicole. “It’s been two months, you must have a lot by now.”

“There might be a bit,” Wynonna smirked. Picking up the lightest of Waverly’s bags, she tossed it into the back of her waiting truck. “The best news I heard this week though is that Rosita and Kate are an item now.”

“What?”

“Yep!” Wynonna chortled. “You’re not the only member of Purgatory’s LGBT family now. Purgatory Pride is fixin’ to be bigger than ever, baby!”

“Purgatory has a Pride?” Waverly blinked in confusion at that news. Had she been away for longer than she’d thought? “Wait, you haven’t said anything—”

“Not a peep, Baby Girl. That is still your story to tell.”

Waverly nodded her thanks and studied the landscape passing by outside the dusty windows of the truck. It was familiar and alien all at the same time. Like coming home… but her home was lost to her, her heart cracked and bleeding without Nicole.

“Nedley has finally managed to score himself some help. Long overdue for the poor old coot. Swear he’s aged five years this past month having to correct Lonnie’s mistakes. Told him, he should have just saved himself some time and deputised me.”

“I’m sure that went down well.”

“He said that unlike Black Badge, he had ‘standards’ and took himself off to Shorty’s for the rest of the day,” Wynonna chortled.

“You still haven’t explained how you ended up working for BBD.”

“That’s not important, Waves,” Wynonna deflected.

“When does Nedley’s new Deputy start? I could bake some banana muffins for them.”

“How would I know? If you want to bake though—”

“New Deputies get banana muffins, not sneaky BBD agents.”

Waverly went back to studying the scenery while Wynonna grumbled good-naturedly about the denial of baked goods. As the miles past, a question built within her until she couldn’t contain it any longer.

“Nonna…”

“Hmm?”

“Erm, have you found out anything yet? About Nicole?”

“I’m sorry, Baby Girl,” Wynonna sighed. “I tried everything I could from good old Google to getting Jeremy to hack BBD’s servers and we couldn’t find anything on her beyond Chicago. Nothing on any records of the cop schools down there. But hey—”

Waverly blinked through tears of disappointment as Wynonna gave her knee a reassuring pat.

“We’ll find her, you hear me? Somehow, we’ll find her.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want me to find?”

“Waves, you know damn well that bitch at the hotel threw away some of her note.”

She did but… “She denied it, Nonna. Said that was all there was.”

“I don’t know your ginger pop tart other than what you raved about her, which was gross and sickly sweet by the way. She didn’t sound like the kind to bale without a damn good reason. But, is she did… then I’ll find her just to slap some sense into her big ginger head.”

Waverly couldn’t help but smile at that. Shifting closer on the seat, she rested her cheek against Wynonna’s shoulder and watched as Purgatory loomed closer in the windscreen.

Even if it didn’t feel like it right then, it was good to be home.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

With one last check of the security of her guitar and the plastic container filled to the brim with what Wynonna had claimed was a ridiculous about of banana muffins for one person, Wynonna started her beloved red Jeep down the quiet roads of Purgatory towards what loosely passed as its suburbs.

The address she was heading for repeated over and over in her head even though she already knew exactly where she was going. Even if she didn’t, the sight of the small removals truck pulling away from the front of the blue house was like a flashing neon sign pointing the way.

Pulling up, making sure not to block the new Deputy’s driveway, Waverly killed the engine and froze. Just plain froze in place, her fingers tightening around the key still in the ignition as guitar music filled the silence.

It wasn’t just any old guitar music.

It was _her_ music.

Her song.

And it was being played in a style she knew as well if not better than her own.

Before Waverly could even register anything, she found her feet moving her along the sloped driveway to the house. She stepped up onto the wooden porch, following the music flowing out of the cracked open window until her shaking legs had her sinking down onto the weathered boards of the porch just below the window.

If there had been any doubt in her mind, even misplaced, about Nicole’s feelings or what had happened, it was erased by the weight of melancholy and longing written within each note wrought by delicate strokes of Nicole’s fingers upon the strings.

Needing to ease her pain, Waverly sang past the lump in her throat that cracked apart the first soft strains that left her. Growing in confidence, her voice started to rise and grew clearer, a smile breaking across her lips as Nicole’s playing went sideways in surprise before coming back clearer and stronger with almost a questioning, hopeful note before it stopped.

The silence was broken by the dull thud of a guitar hitting the floor and the sudden slide of the window at her back being flung open.

“Waverly?!”

Waverly tried to rise but her legs were made weak by the sudden fear that if she moved or looked away, Nicole would vanish. But then it didn’t matter as Nicole climbed out of the window and collapsed into her arms.

“Oh my god! Waverly!”

“I thought I would never get to see you again!”

“I should never have left you!”

“You had to. I know that.”

“If I’d known that old bag would… I heard from the twins’ mother, she was bragging about how she’d messed with my note and I didn’t know how to find you to put it right.”

“You’re here now,” cupping the familiar lines of her face between her hands, Waverly brush away the tears that clung like jewels to her lashes. “I take it you’re Nedley’s new Deputy? I made you banana muffins.”

They clung to each other, sobbing and crying out their joy and love between lingering kisses and fervent vows to never let anything come between them.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ 

**Waverly!**

**Waves!**

**Hey! Baby Girl! Guess what! I just found out who Nedley’s new star pupil is!**

**Waves?**

**Eww! You’re with her right now, aren’t you?**

**Does this mean I can have the banana muffins now?**

**Waves?**

**Fine! Be all gross and ‘do’ all that stuff that you do… Ya know. Make all that beautiful music together!**

**Don’t forget to use protection!!!!!**

**I am too young to be an Aunt, Waverly Earp!**

**Author's Note:**

> AN - I am not entirely happy with how this one sounded at the end and, when I am more clear-headed and not melting in the middle of a heatwave, it might get an edit. I think the main problem is that I am more used to writing from multiple perspectives and this one I told from just Waverly's. Also, Wynonna just had to send some texts.


End file.
